


Cas Is In Control

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, M/M, Sam Is So Done, Smut, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 01:24:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5892724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times when Cas is in control. Of Dean and his libido :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Want

“I want you.”

There is nothing, no other words that Cas can say that make Dean’s knees give so quickly, and his dick stand to attention so instantly.

He breathes it out in the gravelly tone that Dean is helpless to resist, to the point where it’s gotten them into many a compromising situation when around other people.

They’re stood side by side at the Impala waiting for Sam, and Cas has leaned over to Dean, grumbling it into his ear.

“I want you,” he repeats, and Dean’s already dry mouth causes his throat to catch.

“Sam,” is all Dean can manage, but Cas is already tugging on his hand, leading him through the car park before he can do anything at all.

There are some trees conveniently nearby, and that is where they head. Cas presses Dean roughly back against one and hungrily licks his way into Dean’s mouth, leaving no room for objection.

Not that Dean would ever object.

He’s unable to resist anything that Cas ever does to him, and that’s why when Cas is tugging open his fly he’s already hard. Cas hums in approval, pumping him slowly and smiling into Dean’s mouth as he groans.

Cas’ fingers disappear for a moment and Dean hears the ripping of a packet. A moment later, Cas’ cold, lubed fingers are exploring, and Dean sags a little, opening his legs.

Cas works him open easily through much practice, and Dean soon finds himself impaled, biting hard on his own lip to stop the loud moan he knows wants to escape. He’s going to have scratches on his back from the tree trunk where Cas has forced his shirt up; Cas has left him many similar souvenirs before though, so really it makes no difference.

He closes his eyes, wrapping his legs high around Cas’ waist and clinging on for dear life as Cas pounds relentlessly into him. Angelic strength has so many uses, is his last lucid thought, as Cas adjusts his angle and bites down hard on his neck.

***

Sam takes in the sweaty sheen on Dean’s face, his overall glazed expression and his untucked shirt, and glowers.

“Keys,” he barks over the hood of the car; Dean is too spaced out to even protest. He passes Sam the keys then slumps into the back seat with a slight wince, resting his head on Cas’ shoulder and falling instantly asleep.

Sam catches the smug look on Cas’ face and whimpers, driving as though he can get away from them both.

 


	2. Quick fix

Cas had a new favourite game. It didn't really have a name, but it did involve make Dean come very, very quickly whilst he himself maintained an air of complete indifference.

So far, he’d managed to jerk Dean off in the short time it took Sam to collect dinner from the diner as they waited in their motel room, in the Impala stuck in traffic, in the Impala on a supposed stake-out, under the kitchen table when Sam went to the bathroom, and Cas’ personal favourite, in a Starbucks toilet stall whilst waiting for their coffee.

Today looked like another Impala kind of day.

Sam hasn't been out of the car more than a second when Cas’ hand is in Dean’s jeans. Dean honestly doesn't know how Cas does it so quickly. He gulps in surprise, but he can’t help respond to Cas as he does, every single time.

Cas smirks knowingly over at him, pauses for a moment to lick his hand, then starts again, pumping and pulling and stroking Dean in all the ways he’s learned will make him whimper the most. Dean’s head lulls back against the seat, his protest long dead in his throat. His eyes drift down to watch Cas work him and he moans, spreading his legs as far as the denim and confined space will allow.

Cas smears his precum down his length, and Dean lets out a mumbled curse. He has a single thought of what a mess he’s about to make, but it seems Cas is a mindreader; his mouth is down and on him in less than a heartbeat.

Dean clenches and unclenches his hands, letting out a single _gnh_ sound as he tries to writhe in his seat. He can’t move far; he’s being kept firmly in place by Cas’ forearm pressing hard into his thighs.

Cas’ tongue swirls around his head and he takes a moment to grin up at Dean before sucking him down again. Dean lets out a grunt.

He watches Cas bob his head up and down, feels himself building, wonders at his luck, and then comes with a soft huff of a groan.

Cas sucks him dry, roughly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and then reaches over to re-button Dean, who doesn't seem able to move.

When Sam returns to the car to find Dean snoring softly in the front seat and Cas curled against the window with his eyes closed and a smile on his face, he face palms and flops down on the back seat with a long suffering sigh.

  



	3. No words needed

Dean slides down a little further in the chair and bites down hard on his lip, eyes unable to raise from where Cas is on his knees between his legs.

His inner thigh muscles twitch at the strain of keeping them pulled wide open, as Cas presses hard against the flat of where his legs met, forcing them to stay apart.

Dean watches as Cas’ head slowly bobs up and down along him, a catching noise in his throat as Cas changes the pressure of his mouth.

Cas’ hand reaches up to grip Dean around his base and he pulls off slowly, lathing his tongue repeatedly over Dean’s head and along his slit, smirking at the way it makes Dean groan. He pauses, lips pressed gently against the tip for a second and then slowly opens his mouth back up and around it, swallowing him down as far as he can.

Cas swallows around him, and Dean twitches as he does, breath firing out in short, shallow bursts. He does it again, and again, enjoying how Dean grunts these tiny little grunts that tell him just how much he’s completely at Cas’ mercy.

Then Cas pulls off altogether, leaving Dean whimpering as he shifts from his knees to balance on the balls of his feet. He rests his hands on Dean’s knees, bending down once more to lick slowly along the length of Dean again, before standing so that his own cock is level with Dean’s mouth.

Dean looks up at Cas, who arches an eyebrow and moves his hips the tiniest fraction so that he’s pressing his shaft against Dean’s lips.

Dean raises his head a little and swallows him down greedily with a weighty sigh.

Cas sucks in a breath and rests his hands on Dean’s shoulders to steady himself, fighting against the urge to thrust.

Cas gives himself a few minutes to enjoy Dean’s mouth on him, closing his eyes at how it feels, willing himself to keep as calm as he can.

When he knows he won’t be able to hold on that way for much longer, he pulls away, and Dean stumbles forward a little at the loss.

He pulls Dean up, manoeuvring him to kneel on the bed, and immediately uses his thumbs to open Dean up, swirling in his tongue.

Dean stutters forward with a gasp, and Cas moves his hands around to Dean’s hips to pull him back sharply to exactly where he wants him, before pressing him open again and working on him with his tongue.

Dean can do nothing but drop his head, and whimper.

Cas covers Dean’s hole entirely with his mouth and sucks hard, once, smiling at the way Dean struggles to remain on his knees. He presses a finger in, slowly drawing it in and out, blocking Dean from moving himself on it with a firm hand across his cheeks.

Cas adds another finger, watching the way Dean puckers red around him, occasionally bending back down to flick his tongue where he can reach. He pauses with his fingers inside him, curling them and nudging against his prostrate until Dean’s breath catches, before abruptly pulling them out and plunging back in with a third.

And then he’s lining himself up. His thumbs hold Dean open, and he pushes in the tip of his cock, breathing out shallowly himself. Presses in, teasingly slow until he is completely inside Dean, then leans forward over him, perfectly still.

He stays that way, forcing himself not to move at all, knowing Dean won’t be able to hold it together much longer before thrusting his hips back.

Cas breathes against Dean’s neck, watching as Dean trembles, his shoulders tense with the pressure of keeping still.

But he can’t wait, not any longer.

Dean pushes back against Cas with a long, low moan, and that is Cas’ cue.

Cas grips hard onto Dean’s hips and slams into him, as hard as he can. Dean’s head flies back, arching his neck, as Cas pulls out slowly before slamming in again. He continues that; pulling out agonisingly slow before thrusting back in hard, for as long as he can manage the control.

Dean is lost, as he always is when Cas is in this kind of mood. He digs his fingers into the bed, jutting his hips back in time with Cas in the only way he can. He looks down at himself, swollen and leaking against the sheets, and so far gone that he's unable to do anything about it, not even reach out and stroke himself.

Cas bites back the moan he feels escaping, preferring to listen to the litany of filth coming from Dean's mouth instead. Every grunt, whine, and whimper sends different shoots of pleasure through him, and just seeing the way Dean is beneath him giving all of himself just makes him possessive, and even harder.

It’s the sound of Dean coming untouched that breaks his rhythm, and suddenly he’s pounding into Dean furiously, a string of curses escaping his lips as he builds, groaning as Dean changes the angle of his hips that creates the most delicious of pressures that Cas can’t help chase, until he’s coming, keening, and doing his best not to collapse on top of Dean.

He leans against Dean for a moment, pressing a solitary kiss between his shoulder blades before pulling out and collapsing on his back beside him.

Cas holds out an arm across the bed, and as Dean moves into it he wraps it around him, sighing as Dean loops his leg between his and rests his other arm around his waist.

Their breath evens out steadily, and within minutes, both are asleep.

***

Sam stretches, long and loud with an accompanying yawn, and thinks it's about time to go to bed. He shuts the lid of his laptop, grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, turns out the lights and makes his way to bed.

He pauses halfway down the hall, seeing light streaming out from Dean's room.

His heart sinks.

With heavy, heavy dread, he stumbles forward.

The doors of the bunker swing open unfortunately deep, which means he has to step physically into the room to grab the handle to yank the door closed.

Which means he can't help but look over at the bed, and whimper a little to himself at the sight of flesh he really, really doesn't ever want to see again in his lifetime. Especially the way it is currently twined together.

He backs out, slowly to start with, until he sees Dean shifting in his sleep and his hand move round to cup Cas' ass. And then Sam’s stumbling, slamming the door shut and breaking out into a jog to get to the sanctity of his room.

Dean raises his head sleepily at the noise then drops it back down on to Cas’ chest, forgetting it at once.

  
  
  



	4. Claimed

“Are you embarrassed by me, Dean?”

Cas' voice is dangerous, that low, growling pitch that, depending on the circumstance, has Dean running for cover in fear of accidental smiting or falling to his knees in irreverent worship the way only he is allowed to worship Cas.

“What? 'Course not,” Dean replies rapidly, wondering where Cas is going with this and also what he's done wrong. He's probably done something wrong, he's good at that.

“Then why,” Cas continues, slowly, making Dean's heart thud loud, “do you repeatedly keep stepping away from me as though I were diseased?”

Dean flicks his eyes down the aisle of the supermarket they are in and stands away from the cart he is pushing, hands dropping to his side.

“Cas,” he begins, guiltily. He's mostly stopped flinching away from Cas' touch in public, in fact half the time it's him himself reaching out for Cas. But every now and then, when he's least expecting it, when he's not paying attention, he looks over to see an expression on Cas' face that is everything from wounded to seething.

Just like the one he's giving him now, only it's much further along the scale towards seething than anything else.

“Shit. Sorry, Cas. Not intentional at all,” and to prove his point, Dean leans over to Cas and gives him a sweet, apologetic little kiss.

Cas remains as stone.

“I'm sorry,” Dean whispers against Cas' lips, kissing him there, along his cheek, the edge of his jaw where he feels it clench beneath him. He really does have no problem at all with being seen with Cas in public, not one.

Cas shoves him so hard back against the shelves behind him that Dean's sure the whole thing rocks. But he's not caring at all; he's too busy trying to keep up with Cas' tongue as it fights its way around his mouth, and Cas' hips as they grind up against him in claim.

“ _Here_? Do you _have_ to, Dean?”

Dean feels Cas' mouth pause, feels the indignance of being interrupted churning through Cas' entire body before he steps away from Dean and straightens his shirt for him from where he's rucked it up. Cas turns away, indifferent, walking down the aisle behind Sam who stands, glaring at Dean.

He always blames Dean when this happens.

Dean's face morphs into a different kind of pleading, the kind that says _hey, I'm your brother, don't get mad at me_ , but Sam ignores it, choosing instead to drop everything in his hands into the cart, grab the handle, and turn his back on Dean to silently skulk after Cas.

Dean can do nothing but take a moment to feel sorry for himself, and drag his feet after them.

It seems that Cas is not finished with Dean.

Sam makes the rookie mistake of leaving them alone for a moment, just to return the cart once they've unloaded their shopping into the car, and the second his back is turned Cas is pressing Dean up against the Impala.

Dean doesn't object of course, not in the slightest, and possibly with even a little more enthusiasm than he normally has in public does his best to appease Cas, by roughly sliding his hands into the back pockets of Cas' jeans, grinding up against him.

Cas bites down on his lip, and hard, before licking roughly over the injury he's inflicted.

Dean can do nothing but suck in a rasping breath.

Cas' lips move down his neck, and there's a sudden pooling of pain where Cas sucks a bruise. The pain also stirs Dean a little lower, which Cas seems to thoroughly appreciate, if the way he rolls his hips against him is anything to go by.

Cas removes his hands from the side of the car, and forces the smallest of gaps between their bodies. He presses the pads of his thumbs at the base of the swelling in Dean's jeans and trails them up in one long, hard path. He does it again, lingering to squeeze them together a little roughly at the head, and the whole thing has Dean swelling more and moaning in minutes.

“For fuck _sake_ ,” announces Sam's arrival, and this time Cas actually turns to Sam in exasperation as though it is _he_ who is in the wrong.

Sam withers under Cas' gaze in apology, and the way his face then contorts in disbelief at his own guilt at the situation almost makes Dean want to laugh out loud.

Almost.

Both his favourite people are far too pissed off at him currently to take any chances.

And then, as though they are in one of those impending disaster movies and the tornado is speeding towards them but somehow in slow motion, Dean hears Cas say,

“I need a moment alone with your brother, Sam.”

Before Sam has the chance to respond, Cas is looking around them thoughtfully, and a beat later Cas is slipping his fingers through Dean's and tugging him away from the car.

There is a restaurant sharing the supermarket car park, one of those cheap menu _churn-em-out_ kinds of restaurants with the kids play area in the front and a few scattered picnic benches to the back.

Cas continues determinedly past the smattering of people sat on the benches, yanks open the back door, and pulls Dean inside. He pauses to take in their surroundings then drags him once more into a bathroom and firmly bolts the door behind him.

Dean has but a breath to thank whoever isn't watching over them that at least this bathroom is a little better quality and a lot cleaner than most.

Especially when Cas unbuttons himself, never taking his eyes off of Dean's as he presses him to his knees, and utters the single instruction, “Suck.”

Which of course, Dean does, more than willingly. He pushes down Cas' boxers further, gripping his fingers into his cheeks and kneading one minute then cupping his balls gently the next. He pulls off him for the shortest time Cas will allow to suck his own fingers into his mouth, and slowly presses one into Cas' hole as he takes him back in his mouth.

Cas grunts, rocking forward a little as Dean strokes his finger slowly in and out whilst swirling his tongue over his head.

Cas wants more.

He pulls Dean up abruptly, spinning to press him against the door and kissing him hungrily as he unbuttons Dean's jeans and shoves them down, boxers and all, as far as they will go.

He pumps him a little, grinning at the groan Dean gives in response, and then turns to look around the room in a sort of panic.

Relief is instant; his eyes fall upon a vending machine and he hits it in a way that makes a packet of lube and three strawberry flavoured condoms fall out into the sink below.

Dean's dick twitches at the sight.

Cas tosses the condoms away carelessly since it's something they've never used – there are multiple perks to being angelic and perfect health is one of them – and turns back to Dean with a look of pure intent.

Dean gulps at the sound of the packet being ripped open.

Cas does this magic thing that Dean loves, at least he thinks it's magic, it feels magic even though it's probably not. But Dean is babbling to himself either way as Cas systematically slips his fingers slowly inside him one at time, in time with his tongue thrusting into Dean's mouth. He rocks down on Cas' fingers, giving a little whine when the angle strikes against his prostate.

“I need to see you,” Cas says hastily, before somehow pulling one of Dean's legs free so he's standing with his clothes flapping around the other leg only.

And then Dean's holding on, to whatever he can, as Cas lifts and spreads him wide open, and slowly presses the tip of his cock into Dean. Dean slides down on it in one move with a long, appreciative groan.

Cas is off then, staking his claim, as fast and hard as he can without breaking either Dean or the sink he's somehow gripping on to and fucking Dean up against.

It's probably not a position that'd fit in well in the Kama Sutra, but for them, it works. It's efficient, hitting all the right angles with them both fighting down their moans of the dirtiest pleasure to be found in a restaurant bathroom.

It's even worked some of the fury out of Cas.

After, when he wipes Dean down, swirling away his come from between their chests, the look in his eye is fond.

It doesn't stop him pressing Dean up against the wall outside the bathroom with one last long dirty kiss though, blocking the doorway and leaving a small child clutching a teddy bear wide eyed at the sight of them, with their frantic mother desperately wrapping a hand around the child's face as a shield.

When they stroll back to the car hand in hand, both with very satisfied smiles on their faces as they lean in for little kisses, Dean feels pretty much forgiven.

At least by Cas.

Sam's rage, all thousand foot of it, folded-armed and glowering against the car says other things.

Dean swallows roughly, and wordlessly hands over the car keys into Sam's upturned hand.

As is habit when Sam is driving and Cas is with them, Dean makes for the back seat door.

“Don't. You. _Dare_!”

Really, Dean thinks, that's some good lungs there on Sam.

Sam points at him accusingly, still glowering. “You. In the front seat. _Now_.”

It doesn't help that when he slides into his seat he gasps a little at the slight... rawness there.

Sam curses, loudly.

Dean turns his head to Cas, receives a wink, and-

“Eyes forward, for the love of _God_...”

The Impala roars to life.


End file.
